With each day that passed, Claire’s struggle grew more difficult. As she sat in her family’s drawing room waiting for Nicholas to visit her as he had every day, she found herself toying with her embroidery, unable to work but unable to leave it be since she needed something in her hands to fidget with lest she lose her senses altogether.

How many times now had she torn out the stitching only to do it again? She was the Sisyphus of embroidery, doomed to forever repeat her stitches, and it was all thanks to Nicholas and his maddening courtship.

I want you to be free. Isn’t that what you want too?

That question still haunted her. Why hadn’t she said no? Perhaps then he would have ended this quest. But no, she had been a ninny—a silent, wavering ninny. She hadn’t thought to stop him, or to protest. She hadn’t thought at all, that had been the problem. Her mind had ceased working.

She blamed his kisses.

As she scowled down at the offensive and poorly executed needlework, she found herself mentally cursing the man and his kisses.

Even as she said a little prayer that he would kiss her again today.

Blast. The man had bewitched her with kisses! Had she known that kissing could be so addictive and lethal to her common sense, she might never have allowed him to kiss her in the first place.

And what a shame that would have been, a little voice taunted. A life without knowing Nicholas’s kisses? That sounded like no life at all.

That voice right there, that was the problem. It was the voice of temptation, the voice of irrational rebellion. It was a voice she’d muted for most of her life, but now it seemed to grow louder with each passing day. That voice was the root of all evil in her life.

Well, that voice and kisses.

And Nicholas.

She threw the embroidery down with a grunt not at all befitting a young lady.

Nicholas was the real problem here and he wasn’t so easy to discard as the needlework. After tomorrow he would be her husband. She would be stuck with him and his tempting lips for the rest of her life.

“Is everything all right, Claire?” Georgie asked from the window seat where she’d been perched with a book for the past hour. As her chaperone for these visits, she’d found a spot where she could read the afternoon away while Claire was left to fend for herself.

Oh, not that Nicholas was inappropriate during these visits. When he wasn’t playing the part of the proper suitor in their drawing room, he was accompanying her for a drive through the park or escorting her out for tea and crumpets at her favorite tearoom.

All the while they were chaperoned. It was all quite proper. Too proper, really. She was starting to get confused. Who was this gentleman with his steadfast attentions and his polite, charming small talk?

He surely wasn’t Lord Nicholas, the nefarious rake who flirted outrageously and spent his evenings carousing with a fast set.

No, this man did not fit the image she had in her mind, and for that she found herself irrationally irritated. Who did he think he was fooling with this gentlemanly act? Who did he think he was to try to woo her as if this was some sort of love match and not a noose around his neck?

Part of her knew she should be grateful. He was clearly trying to make her happy. He must assume that she would want an attentive beau.

Or maybe she was giving him too much credit. Perhaps his intentions were less altruistic. Maybe he wanted to make her fall in love with him. It was just as likely that his ego wanted her to be smitten with him just like all the other women of the ton.

She knew enough of male pride to know that could very well be true. She had seen her father consistently woo her mother. He would come home looking sheepish and repentant. His arms would be filled with presents and his eyes filled with guilt.

After a day or two of cold silence, her mother would relent. She would allow him back into her good graces, only to lose him again a short time later to whatever new fancy caught his eye.

Of course no one had ever explained this to her, but she had been a perceptive child and more aware of what was going on around her than she had let on. It had been so clear to her that as she’d gotten older she’d thought to address it with her mother but had never summoned the courage.

Then they’d died in the carriage accident and she never had her chance. Probably for the best, really.

“Claire?” Georgie’s voice cut into her thoughts and she looked up with a start to see that her sister was standing before her, book in hand. “I’d asked if you were all right.”

Georgie’s pretty brow was furrowed with concern. Sweet, outgoing, optimistic Georgie—her worry looked as unnatural on her countenance as a storm cloud on a sunny day.

She forced a broad smile. “Of course I am all right, don’t be silly.”

Georgie’s frown eased, but she still looked wary. “Are you looking forward to seeing Lord Nicholas?”

Her forced smile faltered. “Of course.”

And that was the truth, she realized with no small amount of horror. Much as she resented him for making her like him, much as she might question his motives, she could not lie to herself.

She enjoyed his company. Too much. Even as she feared his arrival, she was excited to see him.

Oh blast. She bit her lip as she picked up the dreaded embroidery once more. How could this be? How could she have allowed this to happen?

She narrowed her eyes at the flowery edge of her embroidery and jabbed a needle through it with too much force. He had done this to her.

“It seems the two of you have been getting on quite well,” Georgie said.

Claire did not have to look up to know that her sister was watching her expectantly. Georgie’s prying had never been subtle. Claire made a vague hmm noise that she hoped would suffice as an answer.

The truth was, they had been getting on quite well. They had been getting on far too well. Though she braced herself before each and every visit, reminding herself of the true nature of their relationship, she found herself succumbing to his charm before a quarter hour passed. His quick wit and his devilish charm were irresistible. She still wasn’t quite sure how he managed to sneak past her defenses, but he did it effortlessly at each and every visit.

Before she knew it, she was laughing at his antics or smiling at an anecdote. Worse yet, she’d caught herself swooning at his sweet words and compliments.

She should know better! If anyone should know how manipulative a rake could be, it was she.

She didn’t even blame him. It was in his nature to charm. She did not believe he set out to be cruel. She saw kindness in his eyes whenever he was with her and a genuine desire to please.

But that was the problem. He was trying to make her contented with the idea of this marriage. He wanted her to be excited and in love, no doubt because he thought that would make her happy, that it was what every young woman desired, even if she did not admit it.

But not her. She couldn’t think of a worse fate than to fall in love with a rake like Galwin. She would be repeating all her mother’s mistakes, and she couldn’t abide the thought of ending up bitter, sad, and lonely like her mother.

No, all she wanted was a family on which she could dote. Nicholas could give her the children she desired and she would give him his freedom that he clearly craved.

I want you to be free. Isn’t that what you want too?

A tremor rippled through her at the memory of those words. She cursed him for the millionth time for uttering them. Surely the man was a devil if he knew the precise words to speak that would haunt her for days on end.

Those words were torture. A promise of things he could never give.

But then again, perhaps he could.

Her hands stilled as her breath caught in her chest. Perhaps he could give her the kind of freedom she craved. A freedom from entanglement, and a freedom from heartbreak and agony.

If he was honest about wanting to make her happy, then perhaps he would understand. Maybe he would be willing to give her the independence she needed if she were willing to give him his freedom in return.

Her breath came out in a whoosh as an idea came to her. It was perfect, really. It would once again put her back in control, and that was what she needed. She couldn’t take much more of this tension between them. She didn’t want to see him looking at her like he did—like she was something precious to be adored—because that was not lasting and she could not grow accustomed to it. And she didn’t want to feel this neediness around him. She didn’t want to feel this ache around any man, but most particularly not the man who would be her husband.

“Are you sure everything is all right?” Georgie asked. “You look as though you might be ill.”

She blinked up at her sister—her sweet, trusting, naïve little sister. Her sister who believed in love and happy marriages. Her sister who was blind to the kind of hell their mother lived through.

What must it be like to have that sort of innocence and trust in the world?

She held back a sigh. Now was not the time for self-pity. Now that she knew what she wanted from Nicholas, she had to figure out a way of asking him for it. Her hands trembled in her lap as she thought of how she might phrase her request.

Or rather, her offer. Because this arrangement would benefit him as well, if he were willing. For the first time in a long time, she looked forward to his visit. She was still nervous but now for an altogether different reason.

If Nicholas was being genuine about giving her freedom, and she believed he was, then perhaps he would be willing to promise her what she wanted. A life free from romantic entanglements. In return, he would be free to pursue women at his leisure.

Her insides churned at the thought of Nicholas with other women, with any other woman for that matter. She felt so ill she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the urge to heave. But that reaction? That was further proof that this sort of agreement was necessary, for her own peace of mind and for the sake of her heart.

She could marry Nicholas and have a happy life, just so long as it was the kind of marriage she’d always expected for herself. A business arrangement. A beneficial union for them both. They would each get what they desired out of the arrangement without losing their hearts or their dignity.

Georgie sat beside her. “You are frightening me, dear. Are you certain everything is well? If you are having second thoughts about Galwin, I am sure you could talk to Jed and—”

“No.” She shook her head and gave her sister a smile to temper her harsh tone. But really, all she’d ever wanted was to protect her family as best she could. Their reputation and wellbeing were her first priority. To back out of this engagement now would ruin her reputation and cast even more aspersions on their name.

Besides, Nicholas might just be her best bet for the kind of life she wanted. It just wasn’t the sort of life he was offering.

But that was because he had formed the wrong impression of her. He seemed to think that she wanted love in her life. He seemed to have mistaken her as another romantic like all her other siblings.

But today, she hoped, she would correct his misassumptions. To reach such an agreement, they would need time together. Preferably alone.

She shifted on her seat so she was facing Georgie head on. “I am not doubting this wedding,” she said.

Georgie sighed with relief, and Claire could not blame her. The wedding was set for the following morning. Were she to back out now, it would be disastrous for them all.

“I am so glad,” Georgie said. “I’ve seen the way Galwin looks at you, Claire, and I am so happy for you.” Her sigh was melodramatic and sweet, albeit unwarranted. “You deserve to marry for love and—”

“Thank you, Georgie.” She cut her off to avoid hearing more. She had no time for her sister’s romantic notions, not now that she had made her decision to make this marriage a business arrangement. “But there is something I would like to discuss with Galwin.” She swallowed down a tide of nervous energy. “Something best spoken about in privacy.”

Arching her brows, she gave Georgie a meaningful look that she hoped conveyed her urgency.

Georgie’s eyes rounded but she nodded quickly. “Of course. You two are to be married in the morning. I cannot imagine that a private meeting would be so very disastrous.” Georgie gave her a conspiratorial smile just as a knock interrupted them.

Greta, their maid, poked her head in. “Lord Nicholas has arrived, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Greta. Please show him in.”

Once the maid disappeared, Georgie went back to her place by the window and Claire folded her hands in her lap, mentally preparing for the best way to go about this.

She fidgeted with the lace at the edge of her sleeve and she caught herself worrying her lower lip with her teeth. She was nervous beyond all measure, and more than that, she felt as though she were about to take a leap off a very high cliff. But she supposed trepidation was in order. After all, it wasn’t every day one proposed an arrangement for a marriage in name only.